


The Rule of Three

by sidewinder



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-08 07:57:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7749643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/pseuds/sidewinder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike is happy to be home, where he belongs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rule of Three

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ALiteraryLady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALiteraryLady/gifts).



> A fix-it fic for "Heartfelt Passages". Because Mike's not dead, dammit.

Mike blinked away the sunlight intruding through the slanted blinds of the bedroom window. Morning was here, he knew, and a part of him wanted to jump out of bed to get ready for the work day ahead.

Problem was, there was no work for him to rush off to, today. Hadn’t been for more than a few weeks. His brain needed a moment to process that, accept it, and reassure himself that the time would soon come again. He wasn’t one who liked to simply lay around and do nothing, even if his body (and his doctors) demanded he do so for a while longer.

Groggy, he stretched—careful, hesitant, a wariness instinctive now after a few too many incidents where sudden movement had brought on unexpected pain. This morning, he felt only a slight twinge of discomfort. That was good, that was progress; that meant he was healing. Slowly yet surely, he was getting back to his old self.

Or at least, as close to that old self as one could ever get after having faced what had appeared to be likely death.

Mike glanced around, for a moment bewildered and uncertain as to where he was. It had been some time since he’d been here, in this bed… _their_ bed. Not a hospital bed. In a room where he could at last sleep without being rudely awoken at frequent intervals by nurses poking and prodding at him, equipment beeping loudly, physical therapists insisting he “do it one more time”, noises from the corridors of the hospital and then rehab facility where no one seemed to ever _really_ sleep.

Home. He was finally home again.

This bed was large and spacious—something else he’d missed, all that room to stretch out his long limbs without restriction. The bed was king-sized and pillow-topped, dressed in the finest Egyptian cotton sheets his one love could find (he demanded such luxury). It was big enough to swallow you up in its vastness, but also to be a little lonely to have all to himself. So big that even two could fit in it comfortably, yet still lose each other in the middle of the night.

It was a bed quite easily big enough for three to sleep, to cuddle, to enjoy in turn or all together.

His other love was the king of cuddles. And Mike had missed those far more than the comfort of this bed itself.

He could hear them both, beyond the bedroom door, arguing about something but not in anger, instead concern. He could only catch portions of their conversation, however, in muted voices just occasionally raised.

_“…should let him sleep…first day home…”_

_“I know but…excited…big day…”_

The sound of their voices made Mike smile. He knew the past weeks had been difficult on them, perhaps as difficult if in a different way as on himself. They’d had to endure all the uncertainty, the waiting, the medical professionals’ cautions over potential set-backs or complications. Mike had come so close to death as to accept it while nevertheless desperately fighting its grasp; he hadn’t been ready to let go of this love even if he’d felt satisfied to have found it at long last.

A few minutes and the bedroom door cracked open, Sonny peering in. Upon seeing Mike awake, Sonny’s face lit up in a smile that could nearly melt the polar ice caps. “Hey, sleepyhead. How you feeling?”

“Good. Glad to be home.”

“Don’t blame ya.” Sonny turned and said to the man remaining behind the door, “I told you he’s awake.” And then back to Mike, “Got a surprise for you, coming right up. Don’t move.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Sonny dashed away, and through the now open door Rafael stepped into the bedroom. His smile was perhaps more subdued but in its own way absolutely beautiful to see on this morning. “There’s a sight for sore eyes,” he said.

“You’re not kidding,” Mike replied, carefully sitting up, using his arms to do more of the work as his abdominal muscles were yet on the mend.

Rafael had already dressed for work, today in a dark grey three-piece with a striped shirt and a patterned mauve tie. Mike always appreciated that first vision of Rafael in the morning, eager to see what snappy, colorful outfit he’d put together this time. Mike never had such confidence in his appearance. He continued to wear the unfashionably staid ties his father had bought for him, kept buying for him every year for Christmas and his birthday. But that was his father and his limited imagination, and Mike went along with his wardrobe offerings to try to please his dad.

Revealing he was romantically involved with Sonny certainly hadn’t pleased his father much at all, and that was why Mike had decided to transfer out. Not to please the chief but to make sure he didn’t cause trouble for his lover at work. He had no idea how to bring up the fact that he was actually in a polyamorous relationship with Rafael as well.

For now, that was a matter he considered best kept among the three of them.

Rafael walked to the edge of the bed and slid on to it, leaning in to cup Mike’s face, his eyes warm and loving. He moved in even closer for a kiss, soft and sweet, the scent of his cologne temping Mike to pull him down onto the bed and ravish him. Except ravishing remained a bit beyond his physical capacities at the moment. Tender love-making with gentle touches and caresses would have to suffice, and had been no great hardship last night.

“Hopefully I’ll be home early tonight,” Rafael said. “Last day of a trial today.”

“Which one?”

“The Dalton child trafficking case. I fully expect the jury to need all of thirty seconds to deliberate before coming back with a verdict.”

“Good. Then we’ll have to celebrate another win tonight.”

“It’s ample celebration to have you home, _mi amor_.”

“I second that,” Sonny said, returning to the bedroom to join them both. This time he carried in a breakfast-in-bed tray, laden down with sufficient food to feed an army—not simply one police sergeant in recovery. There were also three small glasses of orange juice, fresh squeezed no doubt. He placed the tray carefully down before Mike and then sat beside Rafael, hand resting on the ADA’s shoulder. “Need to put some weight back on you after all that lousy hospital food. So I made your favorite, my Elvis french toast.”

Mike’s eyes were wide at the sight of the stuffed toast, filled with peanut butter, sliced bananas, and topped with maple syrup and crisp bacon. His stomach rumbled in anticipation. “I’m not sure any of this is on my medically-approved diet right now…but I don’t really care.”

“Thank God you’re home,” Rafael said, “because otherwise I was going to gain twenty pounds from Sonny always cooking for three, not two.” He did pluck a strawberry off the plate, bit into it and then shared a lingering kiss with Sonny.

“That’s the way it’s supposed to be, right, Sarge?” Sonny replied to the teasing. “Three of us, always.”

“Three,” Mike repeated affirmatively, reaching for one of the orange juice glasses. The other two took theirs and raised a morning toast to their love. “And nothing less.”


End file.
